


A Truth Universally Ignored

by notsowriterly



Series: The Cynic, The Revolutionary, and The One Who Started It All [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Eventual happy-ish ending?, I seriously don't know what to tag this anymore..., M/M, Warning: Mild Violence, Warning: homophobic slurs, and bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsowriterly/pseuds/notsowriterly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a thought universally ignored, that privileged people don't know they're privileged. Or worse, they don't acknowledge it.</p><p>Or, the one where Enjolras doesn't start off as a revolutionary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Truth Universally Ignored

Everybody assumes that Enjolras was born revolutionary. That as soon as he came out of his mother's womb, he was picketing over priced baby formulas and rejecting society's norms for a male baby of his age. Only Combeferre knows the truth. 

The truth, that the thought of revolution came to him in his sophmore year. 

It is a truth, universally ignored, that the privileged people don't know they're privileged. Or worse, they just refuse to acknowledge it.

And Enjolras was priveliged. By his looks, by his gender, by his wealth. The only thing off was his sexuality, and back then, he was well versed in pretending that he preferred the soft planes of a woman's body to the hard planes of a man's. He played soccer; attended and pretended to enjoy the wildest, coolest parties; and was practically dripping with the girls that everyone but him seemed to be attracted to. There was a boy, he remembers. Sandy hair and glasses, definitely not in the cool spectrum he was in, but the text book definition of the nerd spectrum. He liked  _moths_ , or something equally inane, and in a class debate, had proceeded to calmly ask Enjolras about feminism and the rights of the oppressed. Enjolras had scoffed. Said that people were just whining. This was  _America_. There wasn't oppression. We're a free country. Enjolras was a charming boy, but he was very capable of being terrible. 

Then one day, his friends told him to come to the back parking lot after school. It was going to be a bit of fun, they said. Enjolras assumed it was booze and girls, his friends' two favorite things. 

When he got there, they told him to sit on the hood of his car, and wait. Wait for the show, was their exact words, Enjolras remembers. Wait for the show. A couple of minutes later, they all started nudging eachother and snickering as a boy walked by. 

His name was Allen Montgomery. And he was gay. 

Enjolras remembered seeing him a few times around school. Once, because, he had weird purple streaks in his hair, and the second because he'd bumped into Enjolras while rushing to class. He looked pretty normal, purple streaks aside, talking to a dark skinned girl all the time, and making his way to class like everyone else. A face in the crowd, a blip on Enjolras's radar. 

He didn't look normal now. His shoulders were hunched in, and he looked  _terrified_. Enjolras couldn't understand why. He didn't seem like a shy kid. 

Then one of his friends called out: "Hey, faggot!"

Allen tensed but didn't stop walking. If anything, he walked faster. 

"Hey! I'm talking to you, fag! Why aren't you answering?" Another called. 

"Maybe he'll answer if you offer to let him suck your dick!"

Enjolras stared blankly as all the guys whooped or went, "Ew, no, you don't want  _aids,_ " and started laughing. He didn't understand what was going on. 

One of the Juniors hopped of the car, and went up to him, pulling him around. Allen looked deathly pale. The junior sneered. "What, you think you're too good for us, faggot? You're a  _freak_. People like you go to  _hell._ " Everybody else swarmed over, and Enjolras was too numb with shock to remember when the first punch was thrown, or when Allen finally fell to the floor, curling up into a ball as if to try and shield himself from the pain. He barely even notices his friends--his  _friends_ \--laughing and walking away. He's still on the hood of his car when all of them drive off. Allen is shaking. He's sobbing too, terrible, wracking sobs that send tremors all throughout his body. Enjolras numbly manages to go over, and Allen flinches when he helps him up an shuffles him into his car. There's blood, dripping off Allen's clothes and arms, onto the leather seat. Enjolras can't find it in himself to care. He can't find it in himself to look. 

He drives Allen to his house, and his nurse takes one look at the state Allen's in and rushes inside to go find the med kit. 

While he's getting patched up, Mrs. Enjolras comes in. 

"Enjy? Who's this?" 

Enjolras can't steel himself enough to look at Allen still. Bile rises up in his throat, because he know's Allen's watching him through the eye that isn't swollen shut, judging him, waiting to hear what he'd say. Enjolras knows how he looks. He's wearing his soccer jersey, his hair looking artistically mussed, his build the same of the kids that just nearly beat him to death. Suddenly Enjolras wants to tear off his shirt, mess up his hair, scrub off all the traces of Allen's blood and his own damn skin until he could convince himself that he was someone else, that this didn't happen, that he didn't have to see this. He swallows. 

"He's my friend, Ma. Allen. Allen Montgomery." 

Mrs. Enjolras frowns, looking troubled, and then leaves to go get him a glass of water. 

"You're not my friend," Allen croaks after a moment of tense silence, and Enjolras stiffens, his hands balling into fists. 

He doesn't know what to say. "Does this happen often?" He asks instead, and Allen laughs a bitter laugh that answers everything and nothing at all. 

After a pause, he says again, stronger, "You're not my friend. You're not my friend, because you didn't do anything about it. You just _watched._ However nice you're being now, anyone could've done this, even if they found me five minutes later, and they wouldn't have had to do it out of guilt. They would do it out of sympathy or empathy, or just plain having a conscience. You doing this for me, it doesn't matter." 

Enjolras nods, waits till he's taped up, fed, and watered, then drives him home, helping him to the door. His mother starts crying, hugging him close, whispering, "my baby, oh, my baby, I'm sorry," over and over again as if it's her fault, and his father closes his eyes tight, as if the sight is to much for him to have to see. No parents should go through that, he thinks. No parent. He waves off their thanks, and heads back to his car.

The next day at school, he finds the scrawny kid with glasses from earlier that week, who tried to lecture him on the "oppressed masses." He looks surprised by the fact Enjolras is talking to him, but not intimidated. There is a steely look in his pale gray eyes that earns Enjolras's respect immediately. This isn't the fragile bravery of Allen Montgomery. This is the cool contempt of boy who's barely up to Enjolras's neck, yet seems much older, and wiser. 

"Combeferre, right?"

Combeferre sets down his book, carefully marking the page, and laces his fingers together like a psychologist before he finally looks him straight in the eyes and calmly answers, "Yes, that's me. Do you need something?"

Enjolras shifts his feet awkwardly. "You were telling me about gay people's rights the other day. And women stuff and all that."

Combeferre nods. "LGBTQA rights, and feminism," he corrects. "Yes. Yes, I was."

Enjolras tugs on his sweater, and Combeferre tracks the movement with a raised eyebrow before looking back up at him. "Could you, um...Could you tell me a little bit more about that?"

Combeferre doesn't smile exactly, but his eyes warm, and he moves aside his things so Enjolras can sit next to him.

"So. What do you want to know about oppression?"

And this was the beggining of a revolutionary.  

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://thesenseinnonsense.tumblr.com/)! Prompt me anything Les Mis!


End file.
